


Obsessed Fans to the Rescue!

by PeaceHeather



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Action/Adventure, Bad Fic, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Crack, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-25
Updated: 2006-03-25
Packaged: 2019-02-02 18:04:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12731568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeaceHeather/pseuds/PeaceHeather
Summary: Daniel needs rescuing, and this author is JUST the person to do it.





	Obsessed Fans to the Rescue!

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the archivists: this story was originally archived at [The Alpha Gate](https://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Alpha_Gate), a Stargate SG-1 archive, which began migration to the AO3 in 2017 when its hosting software, eFiction, was no longer receiving support. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are this creator and it hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Alpha Gate collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/thealphagate).

  
Author's notes: This is deliberately written BADLY - that's why it's called badfic. Not for the humor-impaired.  


* * *

Daniel, bound and vulnerable and oh-so-adorable with his bare toes and mussed hair and everything, shivered with cold and exhaustion in his little concrete room. The evil Babs had abandoned him after using him to lure Jack to a fate worse than snaking - that of whumping by an obsessed fan - and he hadn't seen her since. He could only pray that Jack was not suffering too terribly, and that the author of this ridiculous tale would come up with some way to get them all out in one piece and not too traumatized.

After all, he thought to himself, that whole trauma thing is getting kinda old. Daniel didn't wield as big a gun as his teammates on SG-1, but everyone knew that size didn't matter - it was all about technique, baby, and Daniel Jackson had technique to spare. He even had biceps to go with the technique, and combat training, and was in pretty good shape from all those field digs even before Jack had dragged him into boot camp. As for mental and emotional stuff, sure, Sha're was dead and he felt terrible about that, but it also had been two years - three if you weren't in denial over Season 6 (except then he'd be a fluffy cloud and that wouldn't work for THIS story) - and he'd had time to mourn her loss and move on. Even if the writers never did see fit to put that on screen.

Daniel realized he was acting out of character for the story, and got back down to shivering and looking vulnerable. As he did, however, he couldn't help the fleeting question that raced through his genius mind: What is it about my toes, anyway?

The Author, meanwhile, snuck stealthily through the corridors, listening for any sign that the Evil Temptress might have returned from her Jack-collecting field trip. It wouldn't do at ALL for her to come back and turn this into an action-adventure story when it was supposed to be a Danny-rescue. There were fans depending on her to get this mission right, and she was going to do her best. She'd even cheat and rearrange paragraphs if she had to, but that of course was a last ditch solution in case the mission was close to being aborted.

Carefully and with great sneaking skills, the Author crept around a corner, and was thrilled to find the door open to what was obviously the Evil Temptress's Hidden Lair and Control Room. Stepping carefully inside, she pulled her flashlight (torch for British readers) out from under her jacket and played it across the various control-panel thingies - ignoring the light switch on the wall partially because someone might see the light and partially because it was way cooler to wave a flashlight (torch) around in a dark room.

She spotted the monitors for the various security cameras around the place, and noticed the one for Daniel's room was not only on, but recording as well. The Author couldn't help but murmur "awwww" to herself - sneakily and quietly, though - at the sight of poor Daniel all tied up in a corner, shivering pathetically. She refused to admit that this kind of thing pushed LOTS of kink buttons for her, because that wasn't supposed to be what this story was about.

The Author popped the tape out of the VCR, partly to thwart Babs the Evil Temptress and partly to save for herself, for later. She left a post-it note on the control panel, and then swiftly and sneakily made her way to the room where the poor Anthro-puppy was being held.

Daniel, his teeth chattering, tried his best to stay in character and be suitably frightened and vulnerable, but was finding it difficult for a number of reasons. One, you can only stay scared for so long; two, he had to pee; and three, whoever was writing this story didn't seem to be doing much to keep him in the kind of knee-quaking terror that he was used to from his long tenure as Whumping's Favorite Victim. His genius mind immediately deduced that whoever it was must be an amateur at this kind of thing - how quaint, he thought. I'll go easy on them and try my best to make a good adorable victim instead of getting pissy. No one seems to like Pissy!Daniel unless I'm in front of a System Lord or a corrupt politician. Hmmm, I wonder if that isn't redundant?

The door to his cell opened soundlessly, spilling light in from the corridor beyond. Crouched there this time was, not the Evil Temptress, but a slight figure, holding a long, wicked-looking knife out to one side, where it could glint in the light.

Uh-oh, thought Daniel, maybe they're not such amateurs after all. He tried to sit up straighter, scraping his tender naked flesh along the concrete block wall and swallowing a lump in his throat. "Um. . . hello?" he said softly.

"Shhh," said the unknown person, sliding stealthily into the room. "I'm not going to hurt you," she whispered, sliding up next to him with unnerving grace and skill and silent stealthy sneakiness. He tried not to shiver as she slid the deadly blade close to his skin; the ropes parted like warm butter beneath its quicksilver sharp edge.

The Author was very very grateful that she had such a steady hand, since being this close to a naked, tie-up Daniel was having a definite effect on her hormones, her pulse, and darn near everything else. Damn, sometimes it's HARD to be a gentle-woman, she thought. No wonder all the bad guys want to keep him.

"Here," she said to Daniel, "drink this." She pulled a tiny flask out from under her jacket, tucking the knife into a sheath along her shapely calf muscle.

Daniel drank and immediately felt less chilled, and the circulation returning to his numbed, stiff limbs didn't hurt nearly as much as it should have. He could not resist temptation, and parted his full lips to murmur, "I'm sorry if I seem a little dense, but wasn't this supposed to be a Danny-whumping fic?"

"Well," said his rescuer as she helped him to his feet, "yes, originally . . . but honestly, don't you get tired of that? Besides," she added, handing him a pair of faded gray sweatpants that she pulled out from under her jacket, "Babs the Evil Temptress can get pretty dangerous when she hasn't had her snugglefic. You certainly can't snuggle *here*, now, can you?"

Daniel leaned carefully against the wall, pulling the fuzzy, warm, cozy, cuddly, wonderful sweatpants on over his legs. He couldn't help but notice that they were too short, bunching up just below his knees to show off long slim legs and, of course, his bare feet. He also couldn't miss the fact that his rescuer had neglected to provide him with a shirt, which was a little embarrassing since his nipples were going all puckery from the cold. He supposed the audience would get a kick out of it, though, and Daniel was nothing if not a good sport. Look at all the times he'd actually died, just to up the angst factor on television! And besides, even he had to admit that he had a pretty nice-looking chest and tummy, although he'd be mortified if anyone ever found out that he wasn't as self-conscious as people thought.

"Um, how are we going to escape?" said Daniel. "Er. . . assuming we're escaping, that is."

"Just follow me," she replied. "No, wait - you walk in front of me, I'll keep an eye on behind - I mean, out behind us - and we'll sneak out of here through a super secret exit that even the bad guys don't know about. Sound good?"

"Sure," said Daniel, padding on cutesty-wootsy bare toesies toward the door of his cell. "Are you coming?"

"Maybe later . . . I mean, yes! Yes, right behind you. Sorry."

The two sneaky characters snuck sneakily and with great stealth down the corridor, The Author surreptitiously eyeing Daniel's ass under the sweats, and acres and acres of glorious skin and muscle above the waistband. Daniel, a veteran of this sort of thing, graciously pretended not to notice. Then he was struck by a question.

"Hey," he murmured, his voice purring ever so slightly, "how did you know where to find me, when I don't even know where I am?"

The woman rested one hand reassuringly at the small of Daniel's back, and answered, "I have. . . contacts. . . who keep me in the know. As for where you are, this is Springfield." She gave Daniel a significant look. "As in - home of the Simpsons."

"No," Daniel breathed (and god but he was gorgeous when he did that), "the Simpsons? Jack!"

"Would have been helpless to resist, that's right," said his rescuer. "You were in danger, don't get me wrong - that Babs is downright nasty when she's not getting any - snugglefic, I mean - but even so, you were merely bait for her to trap Jack." She sighed. "Babs thought the Simpsons might put him in a better mood to snuggle."

"Wow," said Daniel, "that's - that's diabolically clever."

The Author - who Daniel didn't know was the Author and NEVER WOULD - nodded sagely. "Babs is like that when she goes into Evil Temptress mode."

They turned left at the intersection of two dimly lit corridors, and Daniel's rescuer pulled a glowing blue stone out from under her jacket.

"You sure have a lot of cool stuff under that jacket," Daniel said admiringly.

"Yup," the woman said, "it's a wonder I even have room for my breasts in there, for all the helpful items stashed away. I was going to stick my knife under the jacket, too, but that didn't seem realistic."

"Of course," said Daniel. He looked at the glowing blue stone. "Wait - is that what I think it is?"

"Yup," said the woman again. "Stolen Goa'uld technology. We had to put something in the story that would tie it back in with Stargate, after all." Daniel nodded in understanding.

The Author guided Daniel to the center of the room and stood next to him, so close that she could feel the warmth radiating off his skin even through her jacket and catch the special nummy Danny-scent that you only usually got out of porno action stories. It was a darn shame this wasn't supposed to be that kind of a story, she thought, resisting bravely. She activated the glowing blue stone, and with a nifty "woomph" sound, the transporter rings dropped down over them both.

When the bright golden light disappeared from around them, Daniel found himself in a completely different room. This one had warm wood paneling, thick padded carpet, and a fireplace, in front of which was a polar bearskin rug. Daniel was impressed at how realistic it was, but one leg was flipped up and he could see that it was synthetic and not real skin at all. He looked down, curling his chilled toesies in the thick carpet, and noticed that he was naked.

"Hey!" he said in alarm. "What happened to my pants?"

His rescuer looked up from ogling him, swallowed hard, and when she was able to speak replied, "Oh, um, sorry about that. These are transporter rings I got from the Tok'Ra, and you know how they are. None of their technology ever works the way you really want it to - and believe me, getting any kind of tech support from them is a real bitch."

Daniel rolled his eyes. "I know. Believe me." He sighed and rubbed his forehead, happy that at least the fireplace was keeping the room comfortably warm. "So, what happens now?"

"I'm very sorry, Daniel, but I've done everything I was contracted to do for you. If you're ever in my neck of the woods, maybe we can do sushi. Now, though, I have to leave," said the mystery woman (whose real identity Daniel would NEVER LEARN), and she tucked the glowing blue stone back under her jacket and pulled out something vaguely Asgard-like, beginning to activate it.

"Wait!" said Daniel frantically. "You said Jack was in danger too. What's going to happen to him?"

"Oh, don't worry about that," said his rescuer. "I have another contact on the outside who is arranging for Jack's rescue even as we speak. You should just make yourself comfortable - there's a bathroom through there, and a kitchenette off that way - and hang out until Jack gets here." With that, she activated the vaguely Asgard-looking device and disappeared.

Daniel looked around him for a moment, hands on his hips, and shook his head. "For crying out loud," he muttered, and headed off to the bathroom.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to leave extra kudos, you're welcome to stop by [my Tumblr blog](http://peaceheather.tumblr.com) and say hello.


End file.
